


Three (Bad Ideas)

by there_must_be_a_lock



Series: Everything [1]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kink Exploration, Love Triangles, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Jared Padalecki, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Smut, Top Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: They’ve always been touchy with each other; this seems like the wrong time to start caring about personal space.(Prequel to Everything)
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki/Reader
Series: Everything [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574959
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> For info on the Everything series (and for general fangirl screeching) you can find me over on tumblr at there-must-be-a-lock! 
> 
> The original story has been moved over to Amazon and you can find it there as an ebook under the pen name Louise Lockheart.

In Jared’s defense, she takes him by surprise, the first time they meet. 

He’s off in a corner, trying to practice his fight choreography, and he’s spacing out, eyes half-closed as he works from muscle memory: _punch, duck, pivot. Punch -_

“Hey,” Jensen says. 

Jensen’s sort of a constant in his life, so it doesn’t catch him off-guard. He keeps on ducking. 

Mid-pivot, he catches a glimpse of a pretty face and a nervous smile and _wow, okay_ , he thinks, in the split-second before his feet get all tangled up. Then, suddenly, he’s on his ass and Jensen is laughing. 

“Meant to do that,” Jared says quickly, and gives them a grin and some jazz hands. Jensen’s still laughing, the asshole. 

“Hey,” she says. “I just wanted to introduce myself, Jensen was showing me around.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Jared says, as he scrambles to his feet. “I’m Sam.” 

She snorts, and it takes him a second to realize what he just said. 

“Fuck, sorry. Jared. I’m Jared. I play Sam.” 

“I had no idea,” she deadpans. She sticks her hand out and introduces herself. 

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to help me with the grand tour,” Jensen says, eyes going all crinkly as he grins. “But… seems like you might need all the practice you can get, huh?” 

“Don’t know what you mean, I meant to do that,” Jared grumbles, but Jensen’s already walking away, chuckling to himself. 

“See you later, Sam,” she says, grinning over her shoulder as she follows. 

He’s pretty sure he’ll just embarrass himself again if he tries to say anything, so instead he just tucks his hair behind his ears and watches them go, smiling in spite of himself. Crushing on a coworker is a bad idea, obviously. It’s not like he’ll ever make a move, but there’s no harm in admiring the view. 

*

“You made it,” Jared says happily. She gives him a sideways hug just as Jensen walks out, waving, and the crowd roars. 

“Needed a nap after that last fucking panel,” she says. “This shit is _exhausting_. But I’ve been told this is kind of a must-see.” 

Jared moves over to give her more space, and she peers out the little gap in the curtain.

Jared watches, trying to imagine seeing it through her eyes, seeing Jensen perform for the first time. He’s been able to watch this since the beginning, since before Jensen was really comfortable onstage, and it still surprises him, how charismatic and magnetic and plain old fucking _talented_ he is up there. 

Jensen croons something deep and sultry, swaying his hips, and there’s a high-pitched squeal from the crowd. He’s got them wrapped around his fingers. He’s grinning like he knows it, too, like he knows _exactly_ what everybody’s thinking about his hips right now. 

Jared sneaks a glance down. Her eyes are wide and her lips are parted, and he tamps down the little flare of jealousy that sparks in his stomach at the obvious attraction on her face. It’s not like he can blame her. 

Anyway, they’re coworkers, and he can already tell that she’ll be sticking around; her character was an instant fan favorite. Beyond that, she’s quickly becoming one of his best friends. It’d be stupid to jeopardize that with a crush. 

He nudges her gently with his elbow and offers her his bottle of water. 

“Looking pretty thirsty there,” he smirks. 

She laughs and slaps his hand away. “Fuck off.” 

“Wouldn’t want you getting dehydrated,” Jared says solemnly. 

“Jesus, I’m only human,” she says, and casts a pointed look at the stage. 

“Fair enough,” Jared mumbles. Jensen curls his fingers around the mic and leans in close, and they both watch in silence for a moment. 

She hip-checks him, looking up with the impish grin that’s becoming so familiar. 

“Might want to drink some of that water yourself,” she says softly. 

Jared just laughs and rolls his eyes, like the comment isn’t even worth a denial. She’s giggling, but her expression is uncomfortably shrewd. Jared goes back to watching as if nothing is wrong, but he can feel her staring for a few more seconds before she turns back to the stage. 

_I’m only human_ , he thinks to himself, and quashes that thought before it can go any further. 

*

“I’m serious, it feels like I’m sick,” Jared grits out. Jensen’s trying to pretend like this is funny, still, but Jared can see the growing concern in his eyes. The room is spinning, and it’s all Jared can do to keep still, to clench his hands in the blankets instead of touching himself. The brush of cotton sheets on his naked skin is enough to make him gasp. 

He screws his eyes shut and whispers, “Please.” 

There’s silence for a moment, and it feels like the longest fucking moment of Jared’s life. Then he feels the mattress dip next to him. 

“Look at me,” Jensen says firmly. He’s dead serious now, forehead creased with worry. “You sure? You don’t want me to just… take you to a hospital?” 

Jared shakes his head, jaw clenched tight. 

“Shit,” Jensen says. His voice falters in a way that Jared doesn’t hear often, and he wipes a hand over his face, taking a deep breath before continuing: “What do you want?” 

“For you to never ever mention this again, if I make it through the night,” Jared snaps, staring at the ceiling because he cannot bring himself to look at Jensen right now. “Jesus, fuck, I don’t - _please_ don’t make me say it, just…” 

He used to think about this, sometimes, back in the early days when he’d first met Jensen. In those fantasies it was always so easy to say: _I want you to fuck me._

It’s been years since he let himself acknowledge those ideas. He’s spent so long denying the part of him that looks at Jensen as more than a best friend, it’s like his body is rebelling at the idea of changing course now. He’s choking on the words. Then again, _this_ was never part of the fantasies; he was never drugged and dizzy and so strung out on need that it was painful. 

“Shit, just… come here, okay?” Jensen says. He scoots closer and gives Jared a sort of sideways hug, head tilted onto Jared’s shoulder. 

“Thanks,” Jared whispers. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe. His skin is still screaming, desperate for more physical contact than just Jensen’s arm around his shoulders, but this is so comfortingly _normal_. He’s surrounded by Jensen’s familiar scent, sweat and cologne, and _that_ , more than anything he could say, convinces Jared it’s all going to be okay. 

“You know I’d do just about anything for you, right?” Jensen asks, low and startlingly sincere. 

He lifts his head to look at Jared. Just as Jared turns to meet his eyes, Jensen leans in to kiss his cheek. His lips catch the corner of Jared’s mouth instead. 

They both flinch away and freeze. Jensen pulls back, pausing with his palm in the center of Jared’s back, warm and grounding. Jared can’t look at him; he stares at a spot just over Jensen’s shoulder instead, thinking, _bad idea_. 

“Fuck it,” Jensen says, and he grabs Jared’s upper arm, holding him in place, kissing him hard enough to bruise. 

The relief of it is so intense that Jared just _shudders_ ; he can feel the heat of lips and teeth and tongue resonating all the way down to his fucking toes. There’s a split-second of pure shock while he processes that _this is actually happening_ , and then he’s moving before he can think twice, grabbing Jensen clumsily by the front of his shirt and the back of his neck, urging him closer. 

Jensen just goes with it, rolling on top of Jared. There’s nothing between them but Jensen’s sweatpants and a fucking sheet, and Jared’s so close already, ready to pop at the rough blunt drag of Jensen’s hips against his dick. 

Jared gasps, breaking away from the kiss to pant helplessly, eyes screwed shut, back arching, and Jensen ducks down to kiss his neck instead, his open mouth dragging down the sweaty skin. He slides a hand between Jared’s head and the pillow, and then he’s twisting his fingers into Jared’s hair, tugging, making him tilt his chin up and expose his neck even more. The sting in his scalp sends a bolt of heat through him and he bucks up, making a noise that would be humiliating if he was in his right mind; at the moment, all he can process is the sweet zinging electricity under his skin, buzzing, building, almost unbearable by now. 

Jensen rolls his hips, grinding down hard, and at the same time he’s nipping at the sensitive spot under Jared’s ear, working the skin between his teeth and pulling his hair again, and it’s _too fucking much_. Whatever chemical is coursing through his bloodstream right now is sending Jared’s nervous system into complete fucking overdrive. He can feel it everywhere, tightening up his spine, tugging up from his toes, pressing up behind his eyeballs, and he gives in with a strangled shout, letting his orgasm rush through him. 

It’s so sharp and sudden that he’s just paralyzed for a second, wracked with little tremors of electricity, and then it fades out. For a moment, the itch under his skin lets up, and he’s left panting and lying there shaking under Jensen’s weight, loose-limbed and pliant. Jensen rests his forehead against Jared’s, breathing evenly, letting him come down. 

Jared manages to peel his eyes open. Jensen’s close enough that he’s out of focus, features blurred, but Jared can see his mouth, slack and shocked. His lips are red and puffy. Jared’s stomach swoops abruptly. 

He makes himself loosen his grip on the front of Jensen’s t-shirt. For a second he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Then he thinks _fuck it_ , and cups them around Jensen’s shoulder blades. They’ve always been touchy with each other; this seems like the wrong time to start caring about personal space. 

“That was fast,” Jensen deadpans. 

Jared counters without thinking about it: “Your _face_ is fast.” 

Jensen pulls back enough that they can make eye contact, and his mouth twitches in a smile. 

“Well, at least I know you’re still you under the… Viagra of doom. Shitty jokes and all.” His tone is teasing and sarcastic, but Jared can hear the shake in his voice. “Did that do the trick?” 

Jared makes a face; he can already feel the insistent ache building again, and he’s still hard, or maybe he’s hard _again,_ what _ever_. 

“Helped, but… no.” 

He shifts uncomfortably, wincing at the contact between sticky sheet and oversensitive skin, and then freezes, because it’s not just him who’s hard here; he can feel the length of Jensen’s cock trapped between them. He rocks up and hears the tiny hitch of breath in the back of Jensen’s throat. 

Jensen laughs sheepishly and leans in for a quick, tentative kiss. Then he’s shifting, rolling away to lift the edge of the sheet, and Jared grabs at it instinctively, holding it in place. 

“I’m, like, really naked under here, dude,” he blurts out. 

They stare at each other for a second, frozen, and then they’re both laughing. It’s the sort of sharp hysterical laughter that sticks in Jared’s throat, but at least they’re laughing. Jensen slides under the sheet, eyes pointedly averted. 

There’s another of those frozen, uncertain moments where they’re both not quite looking at each other, and then they both reach out at the same time, fast and clumsy and urgent, and it’s less a kiss than a collision. 

There’s heat all down Jared’s front where they’re pressed together and his lips are stinging already, feeling swollen and used. Jensen’s got his fingers in Jared’s hair again, tugging just on the good side of painful, triggering sparks that cascade down to collect in Jared’s stomach. He stifles his moan against Jensen’s lips. When Jared ruts forward he can feel Jensen hard against the crease of his thigh, and they both groan in unison. That feverish desperation is mounting again, flaring bright in his gut, making him feel like he could go completely fucking _insane_ just from this. 

Jensen pushes him over onto his back, rolling on top smoothly, and he pauses, looking down at Jared all dark-eyed and serious. 

“What do you want?” 

His voice is low and raspy, sultry like a swirl of honey-woodsmoke-whiskey as it rolls down Jared’s spine, and he doesn’t know how to answer; there are _too many_ answers to that question. His mind is reeling with the possibilities of all the things he’s never dared to imagine before. 

But this is his best friend, the single most important person in his life, and there are a million and one ways he could fuck this up, and the potential consequences of that are so massive and world-altering that Jared can’t fucking _breathe_ , and this is a _bad idea_. 

“Stop,” Jensen interrupts, firm and knowing. “Don’t - don’t think about it.” 

“Trying,” he says, in a thin, strained voice, as Jensen nips at that spot under his ear. Jared shudders. 

Part of him is still panicking. There’s a nasty little voice in the back of his head, hissing things like _pity fuck_ , warning him that when this is over he’s going to have to deal with all those years of repression, and it’s not gonna be pretty. 

“Haven’t done this in a while,” Jensen muses, and Jared doesn’t have time to react before he’s shifting back. Jared watches dumbly, watches the muscles of his shoulders moving under creamy freckled skin, as the voice in the back of his head subsides into stunned silence. 

Jensen looks up at him with this fierce, focused intensity and says, “Tell me what feels good. I’ve got you.” 

“I know,” Jared manages. 

Then Jensen’s ducking down and that’s his _mouth_ , hot slippery suction that makes Jared’s eyes roll back, leaving him incapable of thinking anything besides _yes_ , and _please_ , and _I trust you_. 

*

“Don’t leave us,” she groans dramatically, as Jensen shrugs on his massive February-in-Vancouver coat. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I hate leaving you two without adult supervision,” Jensen drawls. “But I’ve got a fucking early call tomorrow.” 

“He’s a director now, he can’t socialize with us peasants,” Jared slurs mournfully, and she giggles, eyes sparkling in the low light of the bar. 

“Get home safe,” Jensen says. 

“It’s two blocks,” she mutters, as he gives her a big bear hug.

“Two blocks in a blizzard, and you couldn’t find the ass end of a horse without a fucking GPS,” Jared teases. When it’s his turn for a hug, he thinks he does a good job of holding his smile in place. 

It’s the first time Jared’s gotten this drunk since The Incident, so maybe he’s not being quite as careful as he should about keeping his facial expressions in check, or maybe she’s just perceptive. Either way, she gives him a speculative, bright-eyed look as the door swings shut behind Jensen in a gust of bitingly cold air. 

“Next round’s on me,” Jared says, determined to ignore her raised eyebrow. 

She glances down at her two-thirds-full glass. The eyebrow goes up even higher. 

Jared looks down at his own drink and spares a second to wonder how badly this’ll end before he starts chugging. He downs it all at once and gives her a big cheesy grin. 

“Your turn.” 

She looks from him to the drink and back again. Then she sighs and gulps it down. 

“Like a fuckin’ champion,” she says, slamming the glass on the bar with a wince and a burp. They both laugh. 

“Next round’s on me,” Jared repeats, leaning in close with a conspiratorial wink, and he can’t help but scoot his stool a little closer to hers before signaling the bartender. He feels warm and reckless and unbearably fucking fond of her, and in this moment there are very few people he’d rather be blitzed in a dive bar with. With whom he’d rather be blitzed. Whatever. 

Well, there’s one person, but he just left. 

He’s mid-sip when she says it: “You’re pretty crazy about him, huh?” 

When Jared’s done spluttering and snorting and trying to get the Coke bubble feeling out of his nose, he turns to her, and he’s been denying it for so long (to the world, and to himself) that the words are _right there_ on the tip of his tongue. But she’s watching him like she already knows the answer, and he _trusts_ her, and… he just _can’t_ anymore. 

“Head over fucking heels,” he says miserably. It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud. 

Until The Incident, he’d told himself it was just attraction, just affection, just a matter of being a human with eyes and a sex drive, because _Jensen_. Then… Jared still can’t think about it without this visceral gut-punch of blurred memories: Jensen’s teeth sinking into the curve of his neck, Jensen’s fingers bruising his hips, Jensen’s hoarse, shredded moan. The way his skin tasted. The way his mouth felt. 

_Don’t worry about it. What are brothers for?_

It felt like a fucking knife to the gut, the morning after. It sliced him open, leaving him stunned and gasping, and it hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before. Ever since, he’s been trying to stuff those feelings back inside, shove them down deep, and stitch himself back up. 

_Brothers_. Fuck. 

He drops his head down to rest on his folded arms and takes a moment to wallow in it, letting out a groan of frustration, before meeting her eyes again. 

“Do you want to talk about it, or drink about it?” she asks, shooting him a sympathetic half-smile. 

Jared laughs, feeling it bubble up hysterically in his chest, a combination of terror and relief that makes him think he could float away. 

“Drinks first, talking later?” he asks. “Fuck, I don’t know. You’re the first person I’ve told.” 

“Secret’s safe with me,” she says. “Drinking it is, then. Cheers.” 

He can’t really express how grateful he is for her in that moment, so he just raises his glass in a toast and says, “Cheers to you. You’re my _favorite_.”

Things get a little blurry, after that. Jared remembers drinking, laughing until his stomach hurts, drinking some more… he remembers the flash of her smile and the way the light makes it look like she’s glowing from the inside. 

It’s not until last call that the subject comes up again, and by that time, they’re full-on shithoused; Jared can see _her_ clearly, but it’s hard to focus on anything else. 

“Am I obvious? Like, does everybody fucking know? I thought I was… stealth. Stealthy,” he slurs. 

“I’m just really fucking smart,” she says, and giggles. “Nah, I pay attention. To the important shit. To you. I don’t think anybody else knows.” 

Jared flags down the bartender for their check. He asks for two glasses of water, while he’s at it, which they sip for a minute in silence, both lost in thought. 

Jared’s not sure he wants to hear the answer, but he asks: “Does he know?” 

“I can’t tell. He’s a little harder for me to read, I guess. Y’know. The whole… his face. He’s better at hiding. Can I ask you a question?” 

“Shoot,” Jared says. He makes finger guns to illustrate his point, and winks when he aims them her way, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Dork. What makes you think he doesn’t feel the same way?” 

He’s replayed the moment in his mind so many times, at this point, that the memory shouldn’t hurt any more, but it fucking does. He remembers Jensen’s easy smile, the _don’t worry about it_ , the hug, _let’s just forget about it, okay_?

Jared shrugs morosely. “I fuckin’ _know_ he doesn’t.” 

“If that’s true, he’s a lot dumber than he looks,” she says firmly, and slaps her palm down on the bar like she’s a judge with a gavel. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

She slides sideways off her stool and stumbles, and Jared grabs her arm to steady her. 

“Oops. First day with my new feet. Thanks.” 

“Thank _you_ ,” he mumbles. “Jesus, just… c’mere.” 

She _fits_. She fits perfectly in his arms, sweet and soft and warm, and now that he’s touching her, he doesn’t want to stop. She’s not pulling away either, though; she’s squeezing him close, and she nuzzles her cheek against his chest like there’s nowhere in the world she’d rather be. 

When she does start to move away, it’s just a few inches, enough that she can tilt her chin up and meet his eyes. She beams at him. 

There’s a voice in the back of his head screaming _bad idea_ , but he’s drunk and she’s beautiful and Jared can’t tear his eyes away from her lips. _Bad idea_. He thought he’d gotten over this crush, he really did. _Bad idea_ , because he’s not sure he could live with himself if he screwed up this friendship. _Bad idea_ , but he’s leaning in anyway, because when has _bad idea_ ever stopped him? 

Then she’s got her hand on his chest, not pushing him away, not stepping back, just holding him at a distance. She doesn’t even shake her head. There’s something strange in her eyes, almost like disappointment. 

“Don’t pretend like I’m the person you want right now,” she whispers. She gives him a rueful attempt at a smile. Then she’s stepping back, grabbing her coat from the hook under the bar. 

_But you **are**_ , Jared thinks, dazed, and then remembers: _Jensen_. 

“Shit,” he says miserably, knuckling at his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m such a fucking asshole.” 

“No harm done.” She winds her scarf around her neck, swaying slightly on her feet. “You remember how to get home, right? Cause I sure as fuck don’t.” 

He laughs helplessly, struggling to get his coat on, and says again, “You’re my favorite.”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You sure about this?” Jensen asks. He’s staring at Jared’s mouth again. 
> 
> Jared’s not sure what to say to that. Instead of admitting that no, he’s not sure about anything, and in fact he’s scared out of his damn mind, and this is probably a bad idea, he just ducks his head to kiss Jensen again.

“What, like, hot alien threesome?” Jensen laughs. 

“All those different species, with like. Droids. And fuckin’… Wookiees and shit.” Jared tries to make a Wookiee noise but he’s giggling too hard to get it out. In his defense, it’s two in the morning and he’s _very_ drunk. 

“Hutt porn?”

“Hentai with actual tentacles! I mean, come on, you could scroll through category menus for hours.” 

Jensen snorts and shakes his head. “I always thought the green chick was hot.” 

“The twi’lek! Fuck yeah.” 

“You are such a _dork_ ,” Jensen laughs. He goes to elbow Jared, but Jared dodges, stumbles, and almost walks into a streetlamp. 

“Dude,” he splutters. “Dude, fuck, can you imagine… holy shit! If somebody liked to be choked, and -” 

“Hate to break it to you, but that barely counts as kinky in _this_ universe,” Jensen says, with a wicked grin. 

Jared’s brain stores that away with a neon sign saying _we are going to think about this later!_ but manages not to short out completely. 

“No, no, you know how Darth Vader -“ Jared stops in the middle of the sidewalk, mimicking the Force-choking gesture, trying to imitate a stern Vader-y expression and failing miserably. He clutches his stomach, wheezing with laughter. 

“Such a dork,” Jensen repeats, trying to hold back his laughter. “Get your ass moving, I’m fuckin’ freezing.” 

Jared falls back into step. “Your fault you’re already dressed for Austin.” 

“Vancouver in April might as well be Hoth,” Jensen says, and Jared cracks up all over again. 

“Who’s the dork now? I’m rubbing off on you!” he crows, and immediately adds, “That’s what she said.” 

Jensen huffs, mock-exasperated, but he sneaks a sideways look at Jared, grinning. 

One second they’re walking side by side, and the next, Jensen’s grabbing him, hand tight on Jared’s wrist as he crowds right into Jared’s space. Jared steps back instinctively, almost stumbles, but Jensen just follows, walking him backward with this wild-eyed intensity on his face. 

Jared’s back hits a cold brick wall. Jensen’s mouth is hot and desperate when it collides with his. 

The kiss is clumsy and messy and perfect, and it’s like Jared’s brain gets stuck in a loop: _what, what, **what**_ , because they’re _kissing_ , and he’s paralyzed by the shock for a long frozen moment while his stomach lurches and his heart pounds and his head spins. Then Jensen’s teeth catch on his lip, stinging in a way that sends electricity skittering along his synapses, jolting him back into the moment like a fucking AED. 

Jensen’s kissing him like he wants to devour him, sucking and biting like he could eat Jared alive, and Jared’s stomach flips with every ruthless drag of his teeth, every deep lush lick, every new brush of those pillowy lips. Jared pulls him in close and kisses him back with everything he’s got. 

Jensen slides both hands into Jared’s hair, strong fingers twining through the strands and tugging sharply just as his leg shoves up between Jared’s, and Jared lets out this ragged, needy moan, the most ridiculously slutty noise that’s ever escaped his lips. He should be embarrassed by how fucking desperate he sounds, but Jensen’s hips jerk forward, grinding up against him as he hisses out an answering curse. If Jared wasn’t being shoved up against the wall he’d probably fall the fuck down with the way his knees turn to jelly. 

Jensen pulls away. Before Jared’s brain can catch up with his body, he’s swaying forward in an attempt to follow his mouth. 

“Yeah?” Jensen growls. His voice is even deeper than usual, a barely-there rumble, and Jared shivers. 

Jared doesn’t know what the fucking question is, but he manages, “Yes.” 

There’s one more searing kiss, teeth and blistering heat, and then Jensen’s grabbing his wrist and tugging him away from the wall and down the quiet sidewalk. Jared feels like his muscles aren’t quite working right, floppy and uncoordinated as he staggers after Jensen. 

He can still feel the residual heat of Jensen’s body all down his front, and the Vancouver night feels even colder in the wake of all that fiery pressure. His lips are bruised and puffy. His skin is jumping with… god, he doesn’t even _know_ what to call it: disbelief, lust, wonder, need, shock, too fucking much all at once, more than Jared can take. 

He sneaks a quick look at Jensen, and Jensen’s staring right back at him, eyes smoldering as he looks up through his lashes. He flicks his tongue out over his red, swollen lower lip and shoots Jared a little half-smile, and Jared has to stop again to reel Jensen in and kiss that smile until Jensen’s gasping against his mouth. 

“Bed,” Jensen says roughly. “I need to get you in a bed right fucking now.” 

“Yeah. Okay. Bed.” 

“You sure about this?” Jensen asks. He’s staring at Jared’s mouth again. 

Jared’s not sure what to say to that. Instead of admitting that _no_ , he’s not sure about anything, and in fact he’s scared out of his damn mind, and this is probably a bad idea, he just ducks his head to kiss Jensen again. 

*

Jared’s spent so many hours reliving the feel of Jensen’s mouth against his, Jensen’s skin under his hands, Jensen’s low moan and shuddery sigh… there’s a million and one fragments of visceral gut-punch memory embedded in his nerve endings from the night Jared got drugged. 

He’s gotten better at pushing them away. At first it was every time, every time he got too close, every time he smelled Jensen; a feverish flash of sensation would hit him hard and fast. Now the memories mostly come out at night, when he’s alone. They’re still almost too intense to bear. 

It’s surreal, the way those memories pale in comparison to the real thing. 

Jensen’s on top of him, hips twisting, and they’re both hard in their jeans; they haven’t managed to stop touching long enough to get their clothes off, and the drag of too-rough denim-on-denim friction is driving Jared insane. The little growl in the back of Jensen’s throat is the same. The incredible mix of grace and aggression in the way he moves is the same. The way he makes Jared _feel_ is the same: this all-consuming _need_ through his body, fierce and dizzying, like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. 

He blamed it on the drugs, the electricity and mind-melting heat of the first time. He convinced himself that it was partly in his head, that it was the chemicals: the perfection of it, the way they slotted together like they were made for each other, the way every goddamn touch felt like a revelation. 

He was wrong on all counts. He feels drugged all over again. 

Jensen sits back on his heels abruptly, tugging his shirt over his head. Jared can barely take his eyes off the freckles and the muscles and the fucking hipbones long enough to deal with his own shirt, but it’s worth it when he pulls Jensen down again and feels all that smooth bare skin on his. 

Jared rakes his nails down Jensen’s shoulder blades and then flattens his hands on Jensen’s back to squeeze him closer, arching up, rolling his hips. Jensen pulls back just long enough to inhale, quick and sharp. 

“Sure about this?” Jared asks breathlessly. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Jensen says no, but he feels like he should ask. 

Jensen doesn’t answer. He ducks right back down, sinking his teeth into the spot under Jared’s ear that makes him whine and twitch. 

Jensen’s hand curls around the other side of his neck, thumb fitting right under the line of his jaw and forcing his head back, exposing his throat and leaving him at the mercy of Jensen’s mouth. Jensen’s tongue swirls over the skin he just bit, soothing the sting with a soft tickling lick, before nibbling the same spot again, gentler this time. Jared already feels strung-tight and shaky. 

He can feel how hard Jensen is, stiff heat straining against the front of his jeans, but Jensen’s taking his time. His fingers press harder, holding Jared down, holding him in place, and the pressure of his hand is doing devastating, crazy-making things to Jared’s insides. He nips and sucks and works sensitive patches of skin between his teeth until Jared’s twisting and gasping under him. 

Jared bucks up, frustrated, and grits out, “Please.” 

The way Jensen groans, low and helpless, might be the hottest thing Jared’s ever heard. He grinds down again, so fucking good Jared’s eyes roll back in his head, and then he finally pulls away, fingers sliding up from Jared’s neck to grip his hair instead. 

Jared blinks up at him. Even after all these years, he can’t believe it, sometimes; Jensen’s too beautiful to be real. He’s even more beautiful now, hair sticking up, lips swollen, looking down at Jared with his pupils blown and his cheeks flushed, something like surprise in his eyes. Jared’s too stunned to even wonder what his own face must look like. 

“Tell me what you want,” Jensen whispers. His voice is a barely-there rasp, steely and dark, and it makes Jared want to get on his knees, spread his legs, beg for anything and everything Jensen might choose to do to him. 

“ _You_ ,” he manages. It’s always been the truth. 

*

Jared makes it less than forty-eight hours before he snaps. He’s in the car before he can think about it, driving the familiar roads to Jensen’s house on autopilot. 

He almost turns right around when he pulls into the driveway. The reality of what he’s doing sets in, and it’s so huge and overwhelming that there’s this rushing in his ears and this wheezing in his lungs and everything else fades away for a moment. He parks and leans forward, crossing his arms on the steering wheel and resting his forehead on them. He tries to breathe. 

_Gonna see if I can catch an earlier flight. Just need to think._

_Sorry._

He woke up alone two days ago, and he’s read the note so many times since that it’s like those three sentences are just on a constant loop in the back of his head. He’s not sure he can face Jensen right now; hearing the words in person might just kill him. It was bad enough the first time. 

_Don’t worry about it. What are brothers for?_

But at least that time there was an excuse. Jared could write off all his neediness, all his desperation, on drug-induced temporary insanity. 

Jensen must’ve just figured there was nothing wrong with a casual fuck. They were drunk, they were horny, they’d done it before, might as well. But then he’d seen the way Jared looked at him, and he must have finally realized. He panicked; that’s the only explanation Jared can think of. 

Jared knows himself. He knows that everything he feels shows in his expression, clear as fucking day, and if he didn’t have so much practice hiding _that_ particular emotion, Jensen probably would’ve noticed a long time ago. Jared let his guard down that night, drunk, in the heat of the moment. Jensen must’ve seen it plastered all over his face. 

Thing is, though, Jared couldn’t live without his best friend. Doesn’t matter that he’s in love with Jensen. Doesn’t matter how he feels. The simple fact is, even if it’s never anything more than friendship, Jared needs Jensen in his life. If he screwed that up because of his stupid inconvenient feelings, if he really did scare Jensen away this time… well, he can’t think about that. That train of thought leads to cold sweats and sheer panic. 

Jared sits up. He grips the steering wheel, white-knuckled, then releases it, stretching out his fingers as he sighs. He looks guiltily at his hands. He stopped biting his fingernails a long time ago, but right now his nails are gnawed to the quick and his cuticles are edged with scabs. 

It’s eating him up inside. He feels raw and achy and shredded, and he needs to just bite the bullet and hear the words so that he can apologize. He has a whole speech planned out. Then maybe they can just go have a beer or something and it’ll all go back to normal. It _has_ to go back to normal. 

_Fuck_. 

He grabs his phone and texts before he can think too hard about it: _Can we talk?_

Jared sits up and looks at himself in the rearview mirror quickly. His eyes, sunken in bruised purple-blue rings, are puffy and red-rimmed. His hair is a greasy fucking mess, tangled where it peeks out from under his beanie. He looks like absolute shit. Doesn’t matter; Jensen’s seen him at his worst, and his looks aren’t really the point right now. 

His phone buzzes and Jared’s stomach lurches. 

_Yes. I’ll come over._

Jared almost chokes on his borderline-hysterical giggle. He gets out of the car, texting as he walks to the front door. 

_Um okay but I’m maybe in your driveway?_

He steels himself with a deep breath. The door swings open before he can knock. 

Unlike Jared, Jensen _doesn’t_ usually wear his emotions on his face. It took time and trust before Jared could read the little nuances of his expressions, and he knew, even then, that it was just as much Jensen letting him in as Jared figuring him out. 

Now, though, Jensen might as well be a fucking billboard. He looks terrified and desperate and hopeful, and there’s something tender and familiar shining in his eyes. He looks just like Jared feels. 

Jared had a whole fucking speech planned, and he can’t remember a single word of it. He blinks, paralyzed, before taking one hesitant step forward. 

They both move at once, abrupt and clumsy, crashing into each other so hard it knocks the air from Jared’s lungs, and if he thought Jensen kissed him hungrily before, he’s _starving_ now, teeth clashing and tongue plunging in deep, with this deep, gorgeous whine in the back of his throat when Jared just parts his lips and lets him take what he needs. 

Neither of them bother asking this time. They’re sure. 

*

It’s a bad idea and Jared knows it, even as he hauls Jensen in by the belt loops, but this is the longest he’s gone without kissing Jensen since they got together. He’s pretty sure he’s going to lose his goddamn mind before they make it to the last panel of the day. They’re near the green room in a relatively secluded little nook of the hallway, so at least there’s no danger of fans spotting them, but someone from the cast or Creation staff could walk by. It’s a stupid risk. 

They still haven’t told anybody. They want to try to keep it from the press, at first, for the sake of privacy, and there’s going to be a shitstorm of epic proportions when the fans find out, but they don’t have any illusions about being able to hide it from anybody involved in the show. Still, they wanted to at least tell the important people on their own terms, Singer and Speight and the ones whose opinions actually matter, before it gets out. They’d be assholes to let their friends hear it third-hand through the production gossip grapevine. 

But he’s not thinking about any of that. He’s not thinking at all, really. It’s the first time in over a week that Jared’s had to hold back, to be careful about how and when and where he touches Jensen, and it’s driving him a little bit crazy. 

Jensen’s feeling the same way, if the way he returns the kiss is any indication. He makes a rough, eager sound in the back of his throat and tucks his fingers into Jared’s back pockets, squeezing his ass and rocking up against him, before sliding his hands under the hem of Jared’s shirt to splay over his lower back and pull him closer. Jared runs his hands up Jensen’s arms, gripping his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex under his fingers. 

They break apart just an inch, enough to breathe, both of them panting, noses still brushing. Jared knows they should stop before they get caught, but he can’t bring himself to put any real space between their bodies. 

“Can’t fuckin’ wait to have you to myself again,” Jensen growls, and he pushes up on his tiptoes, lips right against Jared’s ear as he whispers, “Gonna bend you over the desk and make you watch in the mirror. Should see how pretty you look when I get my fingers in you.” 

Jared lets out a frustrated grunt, cock twitching as Jensen nips his earlobe. 

“You’re _killing_ me,” he mutters. 

Jensen kisses him again, gentler this time, but it makes Jared shiver with the strain of holding back. 

Blame Jensen and his mouth for the way Jared’s so lost he doesn’t hear the door handle right across the hallway. He’s not sure what Jensen’s excuse is. 

He practically bites through Jensen’s lip with surprise when he hears the quick little gasp. Jensen stumbles back hurriedly, wiping his mouth, eyes huge in a way that would look comical if Jared didn’t feel icy all over with panic. 

“Oh thank fuck,” he breathes, when he sees who it is. He’s so relieved that it takes him a second to process the expression on her face; she’s bright red, looking down at her feet, flushing and avoiding eye contact instead of giving them shit about it like he would’ve expected. 

“Sorry,” she squeaks. “I’ll just… yeah. Give you some privacy.” 

She’s already bolting when Jared finds his voice again. 

“Wait,” he manages, and she grimaces as she turns to face them again. 

“We haven’t told anyone,” Jensen says. 

“Secret’s safe with me,” she says, with a too-bright smile, before she’s whirling around and rushing down the hall. 

Jared stares after her, puzzled, and more than a little disappointed. 

“What was that about?” he wonders out loud. “If it was anyone else I’d assume homophobic freakout, but…” 

“You really can’t figure out why she might not want to see you kissing someone?” Jensen asks sharply. His lips are swollen, red and shiny and distracting as hell. 

Jared’s heart is still pounding with the leftover adrenaline. He shakes his head, feeling slow and stupid. 

Jensen sighs. “Never mind.” 

“I should talk to her,” Jared says unhappily. “I… I missed her. I didn’t think -” 

Something that looks like hurt flashes through Jensen’s eyes. “We gotta get to the next panel. I’m sure you’ll see her tonight.” 

“Right. You’re right. Okay.” Jared runs his fingers through his hair and tucks it behind his ears. He feels fidgety and strange. 

Jensen grabs him, lightning-fast, and captures his mouth in one last kiss.

“Mine,” he whispers. 

“Yours,” Jared agrees softly. 

*

After the panel, Jared finds her right behind the stage, sitting cross-legged in the corner and rolling a water bottle between her palms, deep in thought. When he drops to the floor and sits next to her, nudging her with one elbow, she smiles at him warmly. There’s no trace of the awkwardness from earlier. The knot of anxiety in Jared’s chest loosens slightly. 

“When?” is all she says. 

“Hooked up again the night we wrapped, pulled our heads out of our asses two days later,” Jared says, grinning down at his lap. “You okay?” 

“Just surprised me, that’s all,” she says, studiously avoiding eye contact again. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird about it. Just felt bad interrupting.” 

“Missed you,” Jared says, honestly, and tilts over to rest his cheek on top of her head. She twists around and gives him a sideways hug, squeezing hard, and Jared feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. 

“Missed you too,” she whispers. “Happy for you.” 

*

She’s so _soft_ under his hands. She melts into him and the kiss stretches like taffy, slow and sweet. He runs his hands up and down her sides, feeling how warm she is, and slides his palms down to cup her ass. 

“This is a bad idea,” she whispers, and then Jensen’s staring back at him, eyes flashing, furious. 

Jared wakes up, wrapped around Jensen under the thick hotel comforter, rock-hard and panting. Guilt twists in his stomach. He feels feverish with it, hot and cold all over. 

Jared lets out a shaky sigh, hips rocking forward ever so slightly; he can’t help himself. Jensen stirs and hums contentedly, squirming back against him. 

Jensen’s all he’s wanted for so fucking long. There’s something wrong with him, thinking about someone else when he has _this_. 

“Good dream?” Jensen whispers, his voice gravelly with sleep. 

“Yeah.” 

“What was it about?”

“You,” Jared lies. 


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe I finally finished this. FINALLY. 
> 
> Please come find me on tumblr (@there-must-be-a-lock) and say hi! You can also find more Everything-verse ficlets and headcanons over there.

“Come on,” Jared pants, “Hurry up already.” 

“Somebody’s fuckin demanding,” Jensen growls.

“Please, just — _fuck_ , so close, come on.” He tries to buck forward but Jensen’s got him pinned, shoving him against the wall of the dark, cramped little closet while his hand moves in a maddeningly even rhythm, working him with long rough perfect strokes. 

“Door’s not locked. If you don’t keep your voice down somebody’s gonna walk right in.” 

He twists his wrist just right, and Jared groans, slumping back against the wall, trying not to let his knees buckle. 

“Please,” he says again. 

“Is that what you want? You want someone to walk in?” 

“Shit, come _on_ , stop teasing.” 

“What would you do if _she_ walked in?” Jensen says, practically purring, his voice deep and suggestive in the dark, close air. “God, I bet you’d love that.”

Jared wants to protest, but the image of it, the thought of her opening that door, thrills him like a thousand fucking volts. He whimpers, and Jensen just laughs. The guilt hits a split-second later. 

“I wouldn’t stop, either,” Jensen continues. “I’d let her hear you begging, let her watch while I make you come…” 

Jared’s so close he can barely _breathe_. He can feel it, building everywhere, from his toes and his fingers, up through his spine, coiling tight and hot and —

“So fuckin’ dirty, admit it, you _want_ her to see you come all over yourself. Think she’d lick it off my fingers when you’re done?” 

“Asshole,” Jared gasps, and his cheeks are burning but he can’t help it, he’s imagining her face and then his hips are jerking forward as he comes, so bright and sharp in his gut that he’s doubling over, clutching at the back of Jensen’s shirt and trying to stifle a shout. 

*

Jared’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop, if he’s being honest with himself. Everything has gone so smoothly with them. It’s been over a year, and he’s still convinced he’s going to fuck this up; it can’t _possibly_ be this easy. 

Jared’s pretty sure the shoe hit the ground today, when Jensen mentioned someone else and Jared just — well. _That_. 

Jensen has a territorial streak a mile wide. He’s quick to move in when he feels like someone’s too close to Jared, asserting himself with a hand on the back of Jared’s neck, fingers in his hair, something quietly possessive. Dirty talk is one thing; the way Jared _reacted_ to it must have been more than enough to set off a red alert in that jealous corner of Jensen’s brain. 

He’s already steeling himself as Jensen slides into the bed, turns the light off, and spoons up behind him to kiss the curve of his neck. 

“We gonna talk about that?” Jensen murmurs. Jensen doesn’t sound mad, but he’s a good fucking actor. 

“I don’t know what you’re—” 

“Don’t.” His huff of a laugh tickles Jared’s neck. 

Jared’s not sure what the fuck is wrong with him, because he finally has what he’s wanted for so many years, _finally_ , and he’s so ridiculously, breathtakingly, head-over-heels in love with Jensen that he can barely see straight sometimes. It’s hard to take his eyes off Jensen, and it definitely gets in the way of things like eating or sleeping or remembering his lines, and so it’s kind of amazing to him that his brain even has _space_ to notice another person, but… he notices her. He can’t help it.

Jensen slides a palm over his hip, tracing the shape of bone and muscle with the tips of his fingers and then dipping down to cup his cock. 

_Fuck_. 

Jared tries to ignore the feeling that he’s walking into a trap, somehow. 

“It was hot,” he admits softly. 

“Fuckin’ right it was,” Jensen says, low and suggestive against his ear. “Ever thought about that? Somebody watching?” 

He’s getting hard embarrassingly fast and he knows Jensen can feel it. Jared squirms back against him. For a second it’s easy to forget what they were talking about, and by the time he remembers, he doesn’t particularly _care_ any more. 

“Can you—” he breathes, and Jensen nips the round of his shoulder before rolling away for a second. When he comes back, there’s the click of a bottle opening and closing, and then Jensen’s teasing with one slick finger, grazing sensitive skin in little circles until Jared’s gritting his teeth against the urge to beg. 

“You never answered my question,” Jensen whispers. One finger sinks in slow, and Jared shudders. 

Right. That. 

“It’s not a _thing_ or whatever. I was close, and your voice — you could recite a grocery list in that fucking voice and I’d get hard.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

Jared can hear the smirk. 

“It was just… in the moment,” he insists. “I’d never — hearing you talk about it was hot, but… I’ve never — not seriously.” He’s glad Jensen can’t see the way he blushes.

The second finger feels like a stretch, a burn that streaks up his spine and dissolves quickly into sparks, discomfort easing into a wash of pleasure. 

“But you like talking about it,” Jensen rasps, and for a second Jared has no fucking idea what they were just saying. Jensen curls his fingers just right and white fireworks dance behind Jared’s eyelids. 

“Maybe,” he gasps. He tries to brace himself against the mattress, pushing back, arching shamelessly. Jensen kisses the nape of his neck, dragging an open-mouthed kiss down the knobs of Jared’s spine. 

“So let’s talk about it,” Jensen says, lips still touching, smearing the words across his skin. He kisses the curve of his neck, bites it, a bright grounding point of sensation as he pulls his hand away. 

“More?” Jared whispers, just as Jensen’s fingers slide in again, three this time, slow, overwhelming. 

There’s a prickle of heat all over his skin. Jared focuses on breathing. Jensen matches him so that they’re inhaling and exhaling in sync, and it’s deafening in the dark, silent, still room. 

Jensen’s fingers fuck him open slowly, twisting, brushing up against the spot that makes Jared whimper, again and again and —

“Was it because you imagined somebody walking it? Or because you imagined _her_ walking in?” Jensen asks. 

Jared goes cold all over for a second, cold and then fever-hot again as pure panic zings up his spine. He can’t answer, but it doesn’t matter; if Jensen’s asking that question, it’s because he already _knows_ the answer. 

He bites back a whimper, torn between shame and arousal. He’s _frozen_. 

“Whoa, no,” Jensen says, obviously alarmed. “That’s not — Jesus, I’m sorry, I would never — I don’t care.” He pulls his fingers away and curls himself around Jared, kissing the hollow behind Jared’s ear, making soft shushing sounds, crooning reassurances until Jared starts to relax. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay? Why would you even think that?” 

Jared knows him, knows how he sounds when he’s angry, knows that this isn’t that, and he’s not really sure _why_ he panicked, now; Jensen wouldn’t set him up like that. He just wouldn’t. 

It’s Jared’s own fault, anxiety and guilt and relentless fucking insecurities. He should know better.

“Sorry,” is all he can manage, in a rough strangled voice. He doesn’t know what to do with the leftover adrenaline fizzing in his veins. 

“Hey, listen to me,” Jensen whispers, with just enough steel in his tone that Jared can’t help but pay attention. “I just —I don’t care who you’re attracted to, because… you love me, right?”

“Of course. Why would you even—” 

“So it doesn’t matter who you’re thinking about, because you’re still _mine_. Right?” 

“Right,” Jared mumbles. He’s still not entirely sure why Jensen brought her up in the first place, if not out of jealousy, but Jensen’s fingers are sliding in again, thick knuckles opening him up. It’s _distracting_. 

“If I was there too — if it was something we could do together — ” Jensen says, hesitant. “I wouldn’t mind sharing you.”

“Oh,” Jared breathes. 

This is _so_ not how he expected this conversation to go. 

“If I was telling you what to do…” Jared groans, ragged and drawn-out, and Jensen lets out a shaky exhale before he continues: “You’re so good for me. So good at doing what you’re told.” 

“Holy _shit_.” 

Before Jensen, Jared would’ve considered himself thoroughly fucking vanilla, but Jensen has this way of pushing buttons that Jared never knew existed. Inventing new buttons, maybe. They’re, like, Jensen-specific buttons, and fuck, Jared’s not making sense even to himself, and he’s about to _lose his goddamn mind_ here. 

“On your stomach,” Jensen orders. He urges Jared forward and moves with him, sliding on top of him, hot soft skin and sinewy strength blanketing him and grounding him and holding him in place. 

“Come on, just—.”

The words turn into a sigh as Jensen sinks into him. He grabs Jared’s wrists, squeezing almost too tight, pinning him down. He rocks his hips, pushing in deeper, inch by inch, until Jared’s shaking and full and so tense he feels like he’s vibrating. 

“So good,” Jensen croons again. “I should show you off, let everybody see how well trained you are… is that what you want?” 

Jared _twitches_ under him, hips jerking, fingers flexing, uncoordinated and involuntary. 

“Yeah. _Yes. Fuck._ ” 

He’s never imagined anything like that in his life, but the image _sears_ itself into his brain, and he knows he’ll be thinking about that for a long goddamn time. His cock is uncomfortably hard, trapped between his stomach and the mattress, and every thrust has him rubbing against the sheets, too rough and nowhere near enough. 

Jensen grinds in with this long undulating snaky movement that drags like a match being struck, and the friction ignites inside him, sparkling hot. He tries to muffle the raw ugly cry in the back of his throat by pressing his face down into the mattress. A few more of those rolling sinuous thrusts and Jared’s burning up, not really sure if those are words coming out of his mouth or just nonsense, but he thinks he’s begging, stuttering out curses and pleas. 

“I’ve imagined the two of you together,” Jensen says, gravelly and shredded. “What you’d look like… what I’d tell you to do to her.” 

“Fuck,” Jared slurs, and tries to bite down on the sheet. He’s so close, too close, just needs _something_ — 

Then Jensen slides a hand from Jared’s wrist to his hair, and he grabs, twists, forces Jared’s head to one side so that the next wild sound rings out loud. 

“Mine,” he growls, close and hot and _everywhere_. He fucks in deep, pulls Jared’s hair hard, and that sting is exactly the catalyst Jared needed; he lets go, goes under, with Jensen repeating it like an echo: “ _Mine_.” 

*

“We can protect you,” Sam declares.

“It’s not your job to take care of me,” she says defiantly. 

“I want to help. I can—”

“Because you don’t have enough to deal with?” she scoffs, but she’s blinking back tears. “What about _you_?” 

Sam shrugs. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I _can’t_. I’d rather have you safe than—” 

She practically throws herself at him, hugging him so hard it knocks the air out of his lungs, and Sam closes his eyes, holding her tight. 

“Cut!” Rich yells. 

For a moment, Jared’s frozen, caught in the scene, and he has to forcefully wrench himself back out. Her arms are still wrapped around him, her face buried in his chest, and he can feel the way she inhales, shaky, before pulling away. 

“You okay?” he asks. His voice cracks. She gives him a watery smile. 

“That was… wow,” Rich says, grinning from ear to ear. “Nailed it. That’s a wrap for today. Get some rest, you deserve it.”

Jared’s stuck in Sam’s skin, and it _sucks_. He’s never been good at keeping his own emotions neat and tidy; add Sam’s weight-of-the-world mess on top of that, and he’s a wreck. 

Jared looks around automatically for Jensen, but Jensen’s been in production meetings all day, doing important director things. He texts instead: 

> _Done soon? Duckin weird heavy day_

> _Meant fuckin obv, no ducks involved_

> _Ugh miss you_

He heads back to his chair and starts gathering up his stuff, and she comes up next to him without a word, slipping an arm around his waist and giving him a sideways squeeze. He sighs and turns into it, bundling her up in his arms, softer and sweeter than the hug their characters just shared. She doesn’t let go, and after a moment he can feel the tension starting to drain away. He still doesn’t feel like him, not quite re-settled in his own skin, but… it’s getting better. 

He kisses the top of her head, getting a whiff of the unmistakable scent of her shampoo, or whatever that fruity shit is that Jared has come to know as _her_ smell. 

“Walk over to wardrobe with me?” he asks. 

“I need a minute,” she says, the words muffled in flannel. He hates the tremor in her voice. “Before I have to walk through all the chaos. Y’know?” 

“Yeah. Want to just… sit with me, for a sec?” 

She scoots her chair over to face his, close enough that their knees are touching. For a second she just looks at him, like she’s about to ask if he’s okay and does he want to talk about it, but the answer is a resounding _no_ and she must read that on his face. 

Jared’s always had that problem; everything he feels shows on his face. The only reason he managed to hide his feelings for Jensen for so long is that he never even acknowledged them to _himself_. He fidgets uncomfortably, self-conscious, and makes himself stop messing with his hair. He doesn’t really want to know what she’s seeing as she looks at him. 

She grabs his hands and holds them, palm to palm, and it takes Jared a minute to catch on; she’s playing that stupid game where she’s trying to slap the tops of his hands before he can pull them away. 

“I haven’t done this since middle school,” he says, flustered, trying to focus. “Dork.” 

“Gotcha!” 

He tries and fails an embarrassing number of times to get her back. 

“No fair. My hands are like five times the size of yours, they make a bigger target,” he protests. 

She giggles. “It’s true, you’ve got the bigass moose hands.” 

She takes one of his hands in both of hers, laying it palm-up and leaning in closely to inspect it. Jared smells that fruity sweet scent again, and he has to fight the urge to run his fingers through her hair. 

“Can you read palms?” he asks. 

“Mmmhmm.” She frowns down at his hand. 

“What?” 

“See this super faint line right here?” She traces one with the very tip of her finger; it tickles. 

Jared shivers. He’s paying attention to the feel of her soft hands more than her words, but he nods and says, “Yeah.” 

“That’s your grace line. The way it’s all fragmented and faint means you’re clumsy as fuck.” 

“Huh.” 

“This one around your middle finger is the ring of the bird. Means you’re really bad at staying angry. This one is the line of the doofus, means—” 

“Wait a second,” Jared says, laughing as the words sink in. “You’re so full of shit. I’ll give you a ring of the bird.” 

He shoves his middle finger right up in her face and uses it to poke her forehead, and she giggles, swatting his hand away. It devolves rapidly into a sort of childish slap fight. 

“Wow,” comes a low, teasing drawl, and Jared starts in his seat, turning to Jensen weirdly fast. He’s not sure why he feels like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. They weren’t doing anything _wrong_. 

“Hey,” Jared says, breathless, and pushes his chair back awkwardly so that he’s not quite so close to her. 

He expects jealousy, but Jensen’s not doing his usual steely jaw-clench-y thing. He looks uncertain, like _he’s_ not even sure how he feels, but his smile is genuine and warm and crinkle-eyed. 

“Feeling better?” he asks. 

“Oh! Right. I’m… yeah, actually. I’m fine.” He’s stunned by how true it is. 

“Thanks for that,” Jensen tells her quietly. 

Jared frowns. “I don’t need someone to—”

“It was mutual,” she interrupts. 

The sweet little half-smile on her face makes Jared forget his ruffled feathers. He looks between the two of them. 

“Um… to wardrobe?” he asks Jensen. 

Jensen nods and asks her, “You coming?” 

She shrugs and gives Jensen another tentative smile, and they all fall into step. Jared can’t really accept how _easy_ it feels, but he doesn’t want to question it, at least not now.

*

Jared’s used to the way Jensen shuts down sometimes, the way he curls into his shell when he’s anxious or stressed, but it feels different now that they’re together. They’ve been together for a fucking _year_. He feels like he should know how to deal with this. 

For someone who’s remarkably direct in almost every part of his life, Jensen is a champion at stonewalling people when he really wants to; the more Jared pokes and prods, the higher the walls get. Jensen’s been edgy all day, and it’s bad enough that _everyone_ has noticed. Jared’s pretty sure this is about _him_ , so he’s determined to fix it; Jensen said he wasn’t threatened, but… yeah. It’s the only explanation, and it’s making Jared second-guess everything he says and does and fucking _thinks_ , and he’s just pissing Jensen off more. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” Jared asks. 

“You can stop bouncing your knee like that, for starters,” Jensen grumbles. “And then you can stop asking me that fucking question.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jensen insists stubbornly. “Okay? I just need some space.” 

Jared sighs and knuckles at his eyes. This is fucking exhausting. 

“ _Fine_.” 

Just as he’s about to stand up, there’s a loud knock on the trailer door. 

“It’s open,” Jensen shouts reluctantly, already trying to control his own scowl. The door slams open. 

“Hey,” she says cheerfully, juggling a large paper bag and a tray of coffee cups as she tries to shut the door behind herself. 

“I got it,” Jared says, jumping up to help. She gives him a grateful smile and shoves the coffee tray at him. One of them has his name scrawled on the side. “Wait, really? For me?” 

“Your favorite.” 

“ _You’re_ my favorite,” he says, and immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead. “I mean—”

“S’okay, she’s my favorite right now too,” Jensen admits dryly. 

“You mentioned wanting to try that new place, right?” She plops the bag down on the table and makes herself at home next to Jensen on the couch. Jared’s still standing awkwardly, hovering, not sure what to do with himself. 

“The bakery?” Jensen asks. She caught him off-guard before he could fully put on his polite mask with the camera-ready smile. He doesn’t seem to know how to feel about that. 

“Yeah! I got a little of everything, figured we should taste test.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jensen protests. She just waves a macaron at him until he caves, biting it right out of her hand and making a deliriously happy noise. 

“Don’t get me wrong, this was _not_ a purely altruistic gesture,” she laughs, taking a bite of her own. “Plenty to go around.” 

She offers one to Jared, but he shakes his head ruefully. “I was just about to go.” 

Jensen glances up again, and something softens in his expression. His smile looks like an apology. 

“Stay,” he says quietly. He holds up a mini lemon tart as a peace offering. Jared takes a bite, letting out an obscene moan that’s only kinda exaggerated, before taking a seat on Jensen’s other side. 

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” she says, straight-faced as she gestures to the spread. “We have our work cut out for us.” 

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Jensen deadpans. They dig in. 

Jared’s still not entirely sure what just happened, but he doesn’t care as long as Jensen’s smiling. 

By the time they’re down to the last few cookies, Jared’s sugar-high and over-caffeinated and happier than he’s been all week. He’s also starting to suspect that maybe he’s not the cause of Jensen’s mood after all.

Jared sucks a smudge of icing off his own thumb, and there’s a flicker of heat in Jensen’s eyes as he tracks the movement. Then he shakes his head like he’s laughing at himself. 

“Be right back,” he tells them, and heads for the bathroom. 

As soon as the door closes behind him, Jared turns to look at her, wide-eyed. Her smile falters. 

“Is this okay? I know he’s been… off.” 

“That’s a nice way of saying it,” Jared laughs.

“I wanted to see if I could cheer him up.” She looks self-conscious now, which was _really_ not the point. 

“You did. This is awesome, but — I’m just surprised he _let_ you,” Jared admits. “I’ve known him for a long fucking time and there are still days… I don’t know.” 

“Figured if I asked, he’d just say no, so… didn’t bother asking.” She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Sometimes it’s easier to get out of your head when you’re with someone you don’t know as well, right?” 

There are about a million things Jared wants to say, but he hears the toilet flush, so he just whispers, “ _Thanks_ ,” and hopes she knows how much he means it. 

“Jesus, I’m stuffed,” Jensen says, flopping back down between them. He reaches for the last raspberry puff-thing anyway and eats it in one bite, making a goofy face that’s 100% Dean, and they both laugh. He swallows and wipes his mouth, somehow managing to leave a streak of confectioner’s sugar from the corner of his lips down to his jaw. 

“You’ve got a—” Jared says, but he just leans in and licks it off. 

Jensen angles his head for a real kiss. He’s smiling, and he tastes like raspberries, and Jared really doesn’t want to _stop_ kissing him. 

When they break apart, she looks away quickly enough to make it obvious that she was staring. Her cheeks go pink as she bites her lip. 

“I’m gonna go,” she says, fumbling for her bag. 

“Don’t,” Jared says. “Sorry, didn’t mean to go all PDA on you, just—”

She’s already heading for the door. 

“Stay?” Jensen asks softly. He clearly _means_ it, and that makes her pause. 

“It’s almost time for me to be back on set anyway,” she says, still blushing. “I should—”

“If you’re sure, but… thank you,” Jensen says sincerely. 

“Any time!” 

She grins over her shoulder and then she’s gone before either of them can get up to hug her goodbye. Jared watches the door close behind her, disappointed, and he’s almost embarrassed to be caught staring until he realizes Jensen’s doing the same thing. 

“She’s… yeah,” Jensen muses. “Of all the people you could be crushing on? I like her.” 

Jared’s kinda mystified, because if _that’s_ not what Jensen was upset about, he has no idea what the issue was, but he also feels a thousand pounds lighter. 

“Love you,” he blurts out. 

“Love you too,” Jensen says, pulling him in for another sugary kiss. 

*

There are a few moments in the next couple days when Jared can see that black cloud hovering over Jensen’s head again, but they’re shooting his episode, so Jared writes it off as director-stress. Instead of worrying, Jared just tries to distract him, and he’s amazed by how well it works. 

Of course, as soon as he’s stopped fixating on it, Jensen brings it up. All these years and it never occurred to Jared that _avoiding the issue entirely_ would be the best way to get Jensen to talk about something he doesn’t want to fucking talk about.

“I’m sorry for being a dick this week,” he says bluntly, sitting down on the couch next to Jared and passing him a beer. 

Jared laughs, still channel-surfing. “It’s fine. Honestly. At first I thought — I don’t know. Whatever. It’s fine.” 

Jensen grabs the remote out of his hand and mutes the TV, and Jared shifts, curling a little closer so he can take in the abruptly serious expression on Jensen’s face. 

“I got a call… there’s this developer who wants to buy my property,” Jensen says. “And they’re offering a lot of money, but —” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Jared asks. “You were gonna sell it eventually anyway, right?” 

The tips of Jensen’s ears are pink. 

“I wanted to look at my options, and… you know. Talk to _you_ about it.” 

Jared shrugs. “Okay. Will all your shit even fit in my house? Maybe we should get a storage unit.” 

Jensen stares at him blankly for a second. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he asks, “Seriously? That’s it?” 

“You’re talking about moving in, right?” Jared asks. “You’re always at my house anyway, it’s not — wait. Is _that_ what you were stressing about?” 

Jensen actually _glares_ as Jared starts to laugh. Jared gestures vaguely around at the Vancouver apartment they’ve shared for _fucking years_ , and eventually Jensen starts laughing too, burying his face in his palms. The back of his neck is flushed, and Jared can’t fucking believe him, or this, or… the whole situation, really. 

Of all the absurd shit. 

“It just felt like a big deal,” Jensen says sheepishly. “I thought… I didn’t want to assume, and I didn’t know how long I had to decide, and I wanted to go through all my options and have it all laid out for you, because I didn’t want you to think — I don’t fucking _know_. Jesus. Asking someone to move in with you is generally a big deal! I was just freaking out a little.” 

“You pulled a _me_ , in other words?” Jared asks, laughing again. Jensen jokingly tries to push him away and Jared scoots closer. 

Jensen always seems so _sure_ about things. Jared forgets, sometimes, that he worries too. 

“It was a busy week, and I didn’t want to just jump into it, because if you said no and it turned into a whole big thing I worried it would get in the way when I was directing, and — fucking hell. You _hate_ it when I say ‘we need to have a conversation about something but not right now.’” 

“Well, yeah,” Jared huffs. “That’s the worst. But you could’ve at least told me it wasn’t my fault!” 

Jensen makes a dismissive sound. “Why the fuck would it be your fault?” 

“Seriously?” 

“I mean… yeah, nothing _happened_ , why would you —” 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jared half-shouts, torn between exasperation and laughter. “I thought you were jealous! I told you I was attracted to somebody else, and — for fuck’s _sake_.” 

“Did something _happen_ with her, since we talked about that?” Jensen asks. Jared has a momentary urge to smack him. 

“ _No_. Obviously not. I just thought…” 

They both just stare at each other, and then Jensen starts shaking his head slowly as realization dawns. Jared laughs, giddy and almost hysterical, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Did you think I was just going to sulk about it for a few days without telling you, and then… what, end it?” Jensen asks, as if it’s insane. 

Jared shrugs helplessly. “I mean… yeah, I guess.” 

Jensen sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he chooses his words. For a moment Jared thinks he’s angry, but when Jensen looks at him again, there’s nothing but this raw tenderness all over his face. 

“Look,” he says, slow and deliberate. “I know I go all caveman when other people try to flirt with you, but it’s not because I don’t trust _you_. Okay?” 

“That’s not —” 

“Hang on. Hear me out here. You can’t beat yourself up for _looking_ at someone, Jared. Or for pheromones, or what-fucking-ever. You can’t. I don’t care who else you _look_ at, as long as you still want me, at the end of the day. Relax, okay?” 

Jensen’s hands curl around his upper arms, holding him firmly, until Jared rests his forehead against Jensen’s and takes a deep breath. 

“You really don’t mind?” 

“I don’t. I’m fucking _seriously_ in love with you, and I need you to know that you can tell me anything. It’s not going to change the way I feel about you. Just fucking tell me, and then we can deal with it together. As long as you’re honest.” 

Jared can’t help but ask, “Do I need to point out how hypocritical —” 

“Don’t even start,” Jensen laughs. “That’s different. Asking someone to make a huge fucking life change with you is different from… feeling guilty for thinking a girl is cute, or whatever. She’s fucking _cute_. You’re not _blind_.” 

“You don’t think I’m an asshole?” His voice cracks. 

“What? Why would I?” 

“I feel like… I feel like the luckiest person in the fucking world, Jay, you’ve gotta know that.” Jared’s tearing up, because of course he is, and the intensity in Jensen’s expression isn’t helping, but the words start to spill out faster: “I never thought I could _have_ this. This — _us_ — it’s better than anything I ever fucking imagined, and it’s not like you’re not _enough_ for me. You’re… this is _everything_ to me. So how the fuck do I still want _more_? I don’t deserve _this_ , let alone —”

He bites his lip to cut himself off. He didn’t realize he was going to say that out loud. It’s a little too true. 

“Look at me,” Jensen growls, fierce and almost angry. 

“Sorry,” Jared half-laughs, wiping away tears. 

“First of all, you deserve the fucking universe,” Jensen says flatly, like it’s a very simple fact. “And even if you didn’t, I don’t give a shit, I’d still do _anything_ to make you happy.” He brings his hands to Jared’s face, holding him so that he can’t look away. “But also? You _feel_ more than anyone else I’ve ever met. If anybody’s got enough love for two people, it’d be you.” 

Jared snorts. “It’s not like it could actually happen, it’s just —” 

“Why not? As much as you like to think you’re a goddamn trailblazer, this isn’t revolutionary,” Jensen retorts, all snark. “Polyamory is a thing that people do. You can date her while you’re with me. Everybody can get what they want here.” 

“Even if it was that simple—” Jared _knows_ it’s not that simple. “—she’s not interested in me, so—” 

Jensen cuts him off: “You’re an idiot. She’s fucking crazy about you.” 

He looks fond and exasperated and very sure of himself, and for a moment, Jared wonders if maybe he’s right. Then he shakes his head, trying to articulate how he feels. 

“I think… I’d feel weird if it wasn’t something I could share with you,” he says honestly. “I _like_ sharing things with you. I want to share _everything_ with you.” 

Jensen’s expression goes soft and painfully sweet. “Sap.” 

Jared shrugs. He can’t really deny that one. He leans in and kisses Jensen instead. 

Jensen grabs him and physically hauls him closer, until they’re all tangled together, and kisses him again, hard enough to bruise. 

“Is there anything else we need to get out in the open?” Jared asks wryly, when they finally break for air. “Now that we’ve established we’re both fucking morons who need to talk to each other?” 

“Fuck it, while we’re on the subject of sharing.” Jensen looks at him intently. His lips are all red and swollen. “The whole threesome thing? Just for the record, I was dead fuckin’ serious about being into that idea.” 

“Oh,” Jared says blankly. “But what if —” 

Jensen curls a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, smirking. “Stop thinking. Not right fucking now. Not when we’re filming with her for a week solid,” he says, because he can read Jared’s mind. “ _Someday_.” 

“Someday,” Jared agrees. 

*

“You ate those cookies,” Jensen says. 

_Oh_. 

Fuck. 

Jared’s stomach swoops. He recognizes it now, the way she’s holding herself rigid, the panic that shows around her dark dilated pupils; he can feel it like it was yesterday, overwhelming and out of control and fucking _humiliating_. 

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head. What the fuck else can he say? 

She stammers, squeezing her eyes shut like she’s refusing to think about it: “Drugs? Were the cookies drugged? Why do I feel…”

“Like if you don’t get some dick you’re gonna die?” he says bluntly. Her eyes go wide. “Been there.” 

“What did you — um.” 

It’s so fucking strange, thinking back to that night, just like it’s strange thinking about _anything_ that happened before they were together. He remembers the electricity between them, the intensity of it, the way it felt to touch Jensen for the first time… he looks sideways at Jensen and knows he’s remembering it too. 

“I’ll go back to my room,” she says, her voice strained and scared. 

“Needs to be another person,” Jared says. His throat feels clogged, and the words come out thick and clumsy. “Believe me, I tried. But if you’re okay with it…”

His voice falters as he realizes what he’s actually offering. For a split-second, Jared feels _guilty_ , like he brought this on somehow by sheer force of wishful thinking. It wasn’t supposed to be like _this_ , though. Jared looks at Jensen helplessly, but Jensen’s watching her, brow furrowed with concern, and Jared is reminded ( _forcefully_ ) that this isn’t about him. 

“We’ve got you,” Jensen finishes, warm and sure. 

She shakes her head. “I can’t ask —” 

“You’re not asking.” 

She looks so _scared_. Jared remembers that part, too: he didn’t want to look Jensen in the eyes, because he was so fucking certain he’d see _disgust_ there, or pity, or something fucking awful like that. 

Jared empathizes so intensely that he feels sick for a second. He flounders, wondering what he can say to put her at ease, make her feel _wanted_ , and then he chuckles to himself, realizing that the truth is probably his best option here. 

“It’s not like it’s a fucking hardship, y’know? Have you _seen_ you?” 

It shocks a laugh out of her, at least. Jared counts it as a win. 

Then she squeezes her eyes closed again, face screwed-up and anguished, and all Jared can think about is getting rid of that pained expression. He settles on the bed next to her, takes the cool washcloth off her forehead and strokes her hair carefully, hating the way she’s frowning. She turns to look at him, and he feels like he’s about to burst with the urge to just bundle her up in a bear hug and _protect_ her. 

“Yeah, okay,” she says abruptly, soft but sure. “Yes.” 

“C’mere then.” 

Jared slides closer, resting a hand ever-so-gently on the curve of her waist, and she rolls onto her side to face him, eyes huge and desperate. Jensen is settling at her back. She fits so neatly between the two of them. She’s trembling, but it’s okay; Jared’s pretty sure he is too. He glances over her shoulder at Jensen. 

Jensen just smiles, saying without words _it’s okay_ and _I’ve got you_ and **_together_** , and the last of Jared’s worries evaporate. 

“You’re gonna have to stop thinking so hard,” he tells her gently, because he knows _that_ expression a little too well. Jensen lets out a quiet snort of laughter, which is fair, because _Jared_ saying that to someone else is like the pot telling the kettle to stop being black. 

Then he’s cupping her cheek, tilting her chin, kissing her, and the noise in his head goes silent, for once; _everything_ goes silent, just evaporates the fuck away, and all Jared can feel is the sweet soft shape of her lips as they part, the slick slide of her tongue, the way she sighs… he can feel her just _melting_ into it, and there’s something about it that takes his breath away. She goes pliant in his arms, relaxing completely, like every muscle in her body is showing him: _I trust you._ The enormity of that trust is what has him spinning with need, rocketing from zero to sixty in five seconds flat. 

There’s a warmth blossoming in Jared’s chest that is so far beyond a crush it’s not even funny. He’s pretty sure he’s fucked, but he can’t think about that, not now, not with the way she’s responding, surging up to meet him and draw him in deeper. The only thing that matters right now is taking care of her. He just wants to make her feel good; the rest can wait. He’ll deal with his own cracked-open heart tomorrow. 

*

For a moment Jared’s convinced it was all a dream, but when he opens his eyes, she’s the first thing he sees. She’s curled up with her hands tucked under her chin, oddly childlike, and her face is totally serene. 

She’s beautiful in a way that still takes him by surprise every time he looks at her. 

Jesus pogo-jumping Christ. Jared is _fucked_. 

Before he can really spiral out about it, though, Jensen is stirring at his back. Jared rolls over, muscles complaining about last night’s exertion, and he sprawls out half on top of Jensen, trying to keep his breathing even. Jensen runs a hand through Jared’s tangled hair, finger-combing gently. 

“So that was… pretty amazing,” Jensen whispers, so quiet Jared barely catches the words. 

“Yeah.” 

There’s a question on the tip of his tongue and he’s burning to hear the answer, but he’s pretty sure it’s a bad idea to just spit it out like this. 

Because he’s apparently a mind reader now, Jensen answers the question anyway: “I would really love to do that again.” 

Jared exhales slowly. “Same.” 

“But… I think it’s going to be complicated. Emotionally.” 

Apparently they’re just diving the fuck into this. 

Jared closes his eyes, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. He shifts, sliding on top of Jensen, propped up on his elbows. He pauses like that for a moment, taking in the pillow creases on Jensen’s cheek and the concern in his eyes. 

Jensen hesitates, lips twitching down into a nervous frown before he continues: “I knew how _you_ felt about her, but — well, I guess you’re not the only one.” 

Jared blinks down at him. “What are you saying?” 

Jensen reaches up and traces the line of Jared’s jaw, then his lower lip, and Jared brushes a clumsy kiss to the side of his knuckle. Jensen smiles, looking a little more sure of himself. 

“Watching the two of you — I think it could be more. The three of us could be… something. It felt _right_.” He frowns. “Tell me that wasn’t just me?” 

There’s this crazy swell of emotion happening in Jared’s chest, and he’s afraid he might choke on it for a moment. He kisses Jensen, smiling into it, and Jensen’s hands slide up his back, making his skin tingle in their wake. 

Jared hesitates. “What if she — I don’t think she feels —” 

“I think she’s been almost as deep in denial about this as you have,” Jensen says gently. “I don’t think she’s _allowed_ herself to consider it, because of me, and if she knew…” 

“What if —” Jared sneaks a glance at her; she’s still sleeping peacefully. He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“If this is gonna work, we need to lay it all out for her,” Jensen says, so quiet that Jared feels the vibration of the words more than he hears them. “Even if it’s just sex for her, or… if this was a one-time deal. We gotta be honest with her.” 

“That sounds like a _terrible_ fucking idea,” Jared says honestly. “How does that not scare the shit out of you?” 

Jensen just shrugs. “It does, a little bit. But… you’re the only thing that matters, when it comes down to it. As long as we’re in this together, the rest doesn’t seem too scary.” 

It sounds so fucking simple when he puts it like that. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jared whispers, leaning down to kiss him again. “Together.” 


End file.
